


history chimes

by Anonymous



Category: Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Brother/Brother Incest, M/M, PTSD, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23297212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: There's one more kind of day that Torgrim has, these days.
Relationships: Atli/Torgrim (Vinland Saga)
Kudos: 1
Collections: Anonymous





	history chimes

**Author's Note:**

> Consent notes: The inherent consent issues in having (mutual) sex with someone who's disassociating kinda hard. There's no therapy yet, they're winging it.
> 
> Stay inside and wash your hands! @vincestsaga on twitter for more brocontent 👍

Atli's never quite sure who Torgrim is, on these in-between days. When he wakes up with his brother clinging to him, crammed into the bed with them any way he can fit. He doesn't try to push Atli's wife out, just holds on quietly to his little brother with his eyes closed. He won't let go for anything. Not until it's just them in the house, and he lets Atli sit up.

He opens his eyes then, and lies with his head in Atli's lap, letting his hair be stroked. He never talks much when he's like this, but Atli tries to say reassuring things. It's impossible to tell what the problem is, is the thing. If there is one. He'll accept kisses, which he won't do in his other mood. He gets annoyed then, if he thinks the children are getting more attention, and he'll tug Atli away—always successfully—but he screws his face up in disgust if he's offered his own kiss, perpetually stuck at the age where boys start to hate any show of gentleness from their parents.

In Torgrim's regular state, he kisses back now, the brother and lover Atli's known all his life. In this state, the mystery one, he lets Atli lift his hand and kiss it after a while resting, lets Atli move around him to the two servings of breakfast his wife left on the floor by the bed. He sits up and eats when Atli gives him his share, looking down at the bowl without interest and none of his usual animation. But he won't get up and eat without prompting, no matter how long they lie in bed together.

Atli has no idea what brings on these moods, whether it's a different kind of stressed or scared from the feelings that make Torgrim act like a child. It's more disturbing when he's like this, even though he seems—broadly—to have an adult's understanding of what's going on. Even when he's in his childish moods, Atli can still recognize his brother's energy and stubborn streak. In these moods, Torgrim seems drained of everything that's always defined him. Except how much he needs Atli to be here at his side.

Torgrim doesn't answer every question, like this, but if it's important enough he'll give a soft, "Yeah," or, "Nah." "I love you" is never important enough for an answer, not even the first time this happened and Atli said it over and over, convinced his brother was getting ready to die and begging him to say something back. He's learned by now to feel a kind of answer in this strange, exhausted version of his brother. In the way Torgrim lies limp against his body, accepting any kind of movement except the ones that separate them. Atli's the only comfort he'll take. Not the warmth of the blankets, nor the softness of his own bed, nor the fire in the center of the house.

They never kept a cat, even as kids. Thorfinn was about the closest thing to that. Their parents never had enough to attract mice, and Torgrim doesn't care for them. But it's the only thing Atli can think of. It's like having a big dreaming cat lying against him, eyes half-open, taking in heat and hearing nothing when he talks but the sound of his voice.

Atli's not sure he likes these days. He sits there sometimes, thinking about the hours of work he's missing and wondering who it is, exactly, here in bed with him. Trying to believe one Torgrim or the other is in there listening for his voice. Then his brother breathes out heavily, straining from whatever work is going on in his head, and Atli takes his head in both hands to show him he's safe. He looks so old like this, but Atli holds him until his breathing eases and his shoulders feel limp again.

Sometimes—not every time—Torgrim turns over, after a long while, and starts to nuzzle into his crotch. "Are you sure?" Atli asks him, always uncomfortable at first. "Yeah," Torgrim says back, in that low voice that hardly sounds like him. And he unfastens Atli's trousers and lies there waiting for his face to get ridden for a while. It's a lot of work, sitting in bed, and usually Atli moves him down to the floor.

The first time Atli nearly wanted to kill himself afterwards, seeing his brother struggle to get up off his knees. Now he folds something up, a blanket or his own trousers, and has Torgrim kneel on that. He'll do just about anything that doesn't put much space between them. He knows how to breathe through his nose and how to hold himself up, and his sigh when it's done is one of satisfaction. But it's strange seeing him so submissive, touching his face and feeling his gaze turned down to the floor. 

Atli doesn't know if it's about paying him back for the comfort, or needing to know his little brother can take charge and care for him. Or maybe their bodies just can't be close for too long without trying to fuck each other. Maybe that's what all this comes down to, in the end. But he gives Torgrim a kiss afterwards and puts him back in his own bed, and combs his hair for a while until he falls asleep. He'll be himself when he wakes up sometime in the evening.

Torgrim's not really the same as he used to be, even when he's himself. It's almost a relief sometimes when he's in the other mood, because he's cheerful then, and if anything bothers him he has a cry about it or breaks a toy, and then forgets it. He doesn't sulk, or follow Atli around treating him like a man in need of a shadow.

But there's so much Torgrim wants, that he can't have anymore. Atli is the one thing he's always needed. He can have any amount of Atli's time and worry as long as it keeps him moving. Atli's kept his brother's body safer than his own, all their lives. As long as it crawls to him for comfort, he knows it's some kind of Torgrim inside there. As long he needs that—even if he doesn't, even if he stops needing it—he's still Atli's brother, and Atli stays with him and gets used to all the things that change.


End file.
